


Anything to Save Her

by ScribblesInTheMargins



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: 18OI AU Week 2019: Day 7, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Angst with a Happy Ending, Day 7: Sci-fi or Dystopian, F/M, Lilia needs saving more, M/M, Yuri needs saving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-03-30 03:14:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19033615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScribblesInTheMargins/pseuds/ScribblesInTheMargins
Summary: Yuuri Katsuki is a successful skater under Yakov Feltsman.  Living in Detroit, Yakov coaches skating, trying to put his life in the Siberian Empire behind him and forget the woman he loved.Yuri Plisetsky, eighteen years old and making his senior debut, will do anything to reunite Lilia with her ex-husband.  If he's lucky, maybe he'll get what he wants as well.





	Anything to Save Her

The GP finals this year were in Japan. It should have given Yuuri an advantage. This was near his home rink and in his home country, but in actuality, he had had as long of a flight as anyone. He was based out of Detroit as he finished up the final year of his degree. The plan afterward was to return to Japan -- to his family. He wasn't sure if that was what would actually happen.

 

As Yuuri turned to his coach, the gruff man frowned even more than normal. Taking off his well-worn hat, he shook his head, "I don't like this." The man's English was near perfect, but even after living in America for the past decade, the man's accent was just as heavy as it had been the day he had fled. He wasn't the first to have escaped from the Siberian Empire. The take over in what had once been Russia had been bloody and brutal, near impossible to get information into or out of the country -- still, so many people had managed to flee. Coach Feltsman had escaped like so many other top sports people. In the Turin Olympics, he and his top skater at the time had fled to a sympathetic country.

 

Since the day that those two has escaped, the sports competitors from the SE had been even more watched. Yakov would never set foot in that country again -- it wasn't as if there were any sports events there. No one was willing to send their athletes.

 

"What don't you like?" Yuuri asked. His confidence had always had so many problems, but with Yakov's constant presence and gruff encouragement, he had continued for the past few years to compete at the top of his abilities.

 

There was a demonstration skate between Ladies singles and Mens. The Siberian Empire was putting it on, some effort to seem less like a totalitarian military-run dictatorship. "They push them too young. They did it with Victor back when he was skating. He would have been an amazing skater if they hadn't tried to force a thirteen-year-old to do quads when his body was nowhere near mature enough -- I blame myself."

 

"Yakov, you tried to stop it. He still had an amazing career." Yuuri couldn't hide the blush. He had missed most of the silver-haired former Siberian skater's career -- the man's knees given out after two world championships.

 

"He did -- it would have been better if the … nothing can be done about it." He reached out and put his hand on Yuuri's shoulder. The young man had only become a stronger skater under his tutelage.

 

The speakers for the arena came to life, "Thank you for joining us for our demonstration skate showing the top new skaters of the Siberian Empire."

 

Yuuri and Yakov both turned to look at the skaters as they came out. The Siberian Empire, unlike any of the other countries, did not let any of their skaters compete publicly until their senior debuts. They said it was because the competition in their own country was so competitive, but everyone knew it was a security feature. This would be the first time anyone would be seeing any of these junior skaters.

 

All of them were sixteen or seventeen and preparing for their debuts. The rules put into effect a few years ago prevented any skater younger than 17 from competing at a senior level -- eighteen in single competition. There were five skaters scheduled, and Yuuri and Yakov stayed in the audience, watching what was coming to the national competition next year.

 

The first four skaters were impressive, but nothing that had Yuuri worried, and nothing that Yakov had responded strongly too. That was until the last skater. The young man's name was announced over the speakers and instantly, Yuuri saw Yakov sit up straighter. "What is it?" Yuuri's whisper was full of concern.

 

The old man just held up a hand as the speaker announced, "From Moscow under the training of Lilia Baranovskaya, Yuri Plisetsky, age seventeen, competing in Men's singles. Three-time Junior Siberian Empire Champion."

 

The young man that skated our couldn't have been more the 165cm. Siberian Empire skaters tended to not be too tall and the experts were not positive it was not for very unhealthy reasons.

 

The young man skated to the center before a piece from the Nutcracker started to play. He was dressed in all black, as if he were a dance student, but how the young man moved on the ice was captivating. Unlike the other four skaters, there was something to his skating. He threw himself into his jumps. First an absolutely beautiful triple Axel. The next jump was a quad toe followed by a quad Lutz. The three jumps were absolutely beautiful before he ended his little demonstration with what had to be one of the most complicated spins that Yuuri had seen all year.

 

As the young man ended, Yuuri was still captivated. He saw the other Yuri skate to the side and leave the ice. A severe looking woman was waiting for him, one he had never seen or heard of. "Who is she?"

 

"The former top dancer for the ballet in Moscow … and my ex-wife."

 

* * *

 

For the entire competition, Yuuri couldn't get past the fact that Yakov's ex-wife was here. He had known that Yakov had been married, but he had not thought that the man's wife was still alive. To think that she had been in the Siberian Empire all this time -- how had he been able to deal with that?

 

Yuuri did his best. His step sequences were amazing and his choreography on point. His jumps could have been better, but his spins, while not as amazing as what the young man had done, were still high scoring. Dropping a quad to a triple and the hiccup in his one combo was enough to knock him down though. Still, a bronze medal was nothing to be ashamed of.

 

After the medal ceremony, he ducked into one of the secured bathrooms on his way to the locker room -- it would suck in his free skate outfit, but he'd had to pee since he had skated. Yakov always made sure his skaters were well hydrated.

 

As soon as he was inside, he stopped. He wasn't alone. It was only a single stall bathroom with two urinals. Just a little out of the way bathroom and he hadn't expected for anyone to be here. He especially didn't expect crying. It was barely audible from the stall. He glanced down, not recognizing the beat-up, no-brand sneakers. "Hey… are you OK?"

 

As soon as Yuuri said anything, the noise stopped, replaced by uneven breathing as whoever was in the stall clearly was trying to pull themselves back together.

 

"Is there anything I can …" Then he paused, realizing he was speaking Japanese. Of course he was, he was in Japan, he was Japanese, but this was likely not anyone from Japan. He switched to English, "Are you all right?"

 

"Yeah…" The accent was thick, but clearly English was better than Japanese.

 

Yuuri sighed though, knowing what was even better. He switched to Russian. He had needed a third language for his major, and having a coach he could speak it with made it seem like the natural choice, "Do you want me to get my coach? He's Russian…"

 

"No, please no -- he … If I'm seen talking to him, I … please no, not that?" Now there was panic, but the door was opened.

 

Yuuri wasn't used to being this much taller. He tried to give the small, blond SE skater a smile, even if the young man looked like he'd been crying for a while.

 

The boy looked up at him, eyes widening as he realized who he was talking to, "No … you're Yasha's skater…" His hand slapped over his mouth as soon as he realized that he said it.

 

"Yasha?" He'd never heard Yakov referred to that -- but he had taken enough Russian language classes to know what using that term meant. "Did you know him?"

 

The younger man shook his head, "No … yes … barely." He dropped his eyes, whispering, still in Russian, "He wouldn't remember me."

 

Yuuri didn't believe that for a moment. He didn't think that there was a world in which anyone could forget this young man for even an instant. "I don't think Yakov could forget you."

 

"I took a summer camp. I didn't impress him." He dropped his eyes before looking back up at Yuuri, "Could you tell him something for me? Please?" The young man was whispering softly as he looked around, "Don't let anyone know?"

 

"I won't tell anyone." Yuuri's voice was soft, just whispering as he looked down into what had to be the most beautiful green eyes he had ever seen.

 

"Tell Yasha that Lilia misses him. She's safe for now. They're happy with her and know she knew nothing about Vitya…" The words were just barely whispered as Yuri placed a hand on the taller mans' shoulder.

 

"I'll tell him." He couldn't stop looking at him, whispering, "He never dated anyone else." At least not as far as Yuuri knew.

 

"I'll tell her." Yuri took a deep breath before whispering, "Thank you …" Shaking his hair so it covered half his face, the younger man slipped out of the bathroom, not another word from him.

 

Yuuri was left standing there. So many questions were in his mind, but there was no one to ask now. All he could do was pass along the information to Yakov.

 

* * *

 

It was seven months before Yuuri was in the same building as Yuri Plisetsky again. By this point, the younger Yuri had somehow gotten to the GP final as the sixth place skater. It had been by the tightest of margins and no one had hoped for him winning. He had made it through.

 

Like all the other athletes from the Siberian Empire, he was kept separate from other athletes. His coach always brought him to events fully changed so all he had to do was put on his skates once he was on location. Yuuri had watched the young man on video -- not as intently as his own coach did though.

 

Yuri's programs had been safe all year. Both his short and his free were from Russian ballets, classical pieces with powerful movements that matched the strength and grace in his young frame. The influence of his coach's dance background was clear. Yuuri couldn't stop watching the young man, but he never talked to Yakov about it. He knew his coach had complex feelings about the young man's coach.

 

After the short program, Yuuri was in second. Unsurprisingly, or perhaps surprisingly, Yuri Plisetsky was in fifth. He had been expected to be in last place. There was no sign of quitting from the young man and for it to be his first year in seniors -- he was simply outperforming all athletes from the Siberian Empire since Victor Nikiforov.

 

Both Yakov and Yuuri made sure to be watching the free skate, even though Yuuri wouldn't skate for another few people, they watched the younger skater from a secluded alcove in the arena. In silver and white, with his hair like spun gold, Yuri skated his heart out to a Russian ballet. Every jump was hit perfectly, but he was still so young and inexperienced, he needed to develop more and even his best would come up a little short. As the young man fell to his knees, exhausted and overwhelmed, the stadium erupted in applause.

 

Normally SE athletes did not get a warm reception -- too many people knew what happened behind those closed borders. Regardless of international politics, Yuri skated his heart out and the crowd responded. He struggled to get to his feet, too stunned to even think to grab anything from the ice that was thrown -- in his defense, it was not typical for him to have anything thrown on the ice. Then, and the last moment, the young man leaned down to grab some pink roses -- of course, pink roses were more than likely not purchased with him in mind. Most of the men got white or red -- or maybe some dyed color. Instead, Yuri picked up the pink ones before he stepped into the kiss and cry. He knew he wasn't going to win. He'd had no illusions of getting a gold at his first ever grand prix. Instead, he offered the roses to Lilia, his expression perfectly composed and serious as was expected. What no one expected though was how she pulled the young man in for a hug, holding him just a little too tight for a coach. Only then, the flowers in one arm, did she sit down to wait for the scores. Maybe, just maybe they'd be good enough to medal.

 

As the scores were announced, the auditorium went quiet. Yuri's mouth opened slowly, frowning at the results, but quickly he pushed his expression back to neutral. Lilia did not look pleased, but she never did. Her hand tightened on Yuri's arm though as she looked at the scores, shaking her head. Yuri wasn't even temporarily in first place. No, he was in last -- by more than a little now with those scores.

 

Neither said anything as they stood and moved to the back parts of the arena. The crowd was not taking the scores with the same acceptance. The crowd was booing, loudly. As the next skater was moving around the rink before he was called to start, the entire arena seemed united in expressing that they knew those were not the scores Yuri Plisetsky had earned.

 

From where he was watching with Yakov, Yuuri grabbed his phone, looking at social media to see how the scoring was being ripped apart. Short videos ripped of the young man's jumps already appearing online next to where the judges said they were underrotated -- showing they were in no way underrotated.

 

People were drawing lines on his spins and counting rotations. In minutes it appeared skating fans everywhere were rallying to the young man's defense saying the scores were unfair. It wouldn't make any difference. The scores were what they were. Yuuri frowned as he looked at Yakov, whispering, "Do you think we should try to talk to him after?"

 

"I doubt that he'll be around. He won't have to be at a press conference after that score -- that was … " Yakov didn't say. He knew he had to watch his blood pressure and ranting about judging was not going to get his blood pressure to stay where it should.

 

The rest of the skating went much more as expected. Yuuri won gold, only by the barest of margins. Yuri had come in last -- the theory online seemed to be that had his program been scored fairly, he would have been third.  

 

At the press conference, everything went without anything of note happening. As Yuuri was going over the plan for the exhibition tomorrow, that was when something interesting actually occurred. The email went out listing who was invited -- invited did not mean you had to, but if you were invited, it was in your best interest to do the exhibition.

 

Everything was almost completely as expected. The only strange item was one Yuri Plisetsky was invited to perform at the exhibition. Both Yuuri and Yakov looked at each other, "That is …"

 

"That is the people in charge publicly saying that young man had a great moment ripped from him by judges that cannot get over what nation someone is skating for and separate it from the performance that skater is giving." Yakov was nodding -- the only information for what Plisetsky was skating to simply 'TBD'.

 

As Yuuri slept that night, he kept thinking about it. He was going to get to see the young man skate again. He'd be the only skater from the Siberian Empire.

 

* * *

 

Exhibitions were always so different than competition. The stress was gone. The mood so much lighter -- well, for more people the mood was so much lighter. Yuuri kept looking over to Yakov, the man had been looking around constantly. "What's wrong?"

 

"There's less security."

 

"Security?" As Yuuri looked around, he didn't see anything different. The same number of people were in uniform making sure badges were checked and everything went according to plan.

 

"No, from the SE."

 

"Security from ….' Then Yuuri realized. Security to make sure that there were not any defections.

 

He fell silent as he saw the young skater step onto the ice for his practice run through. The young man's' hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, completely slicked back. He was wearing all black -- unlike all the performance clothes Yuri had seen to this point.

 

Yakov was silent as he watched the young man skate to the center and then begin a program -- one that would never make someone think of an exhibition, so much more in line with typical competition program. It was beautiful, but Yuuri didn't know why Yakov was gripping his arm as he watched. Yuuri knew the music was from Swan Lake -- he'd seen so many people perform to that ballet over the years. What he didn't know was why Yakov's knuckles were white as he watched the young man skate.

 

"What am I missing?" Yuuri knew it was something. He had never seen Yakov look like that.

 

"This was the first ballet she had the lead in. She had the part of Odette and that scene -- that is her choreography of the scene where Odette leaves Siegfried because she fears the dark magician … even though she loves him." With Yakov's explanation, the heartbreaking pose the young man held, one arm stretched out, gesturing to the stands in what could not be a coincidence to where Yakov and Yuuri were. The man's other hand clutched at his heart, the story of painful love and fear obvious in the pose.

 

"Why that piece?" Yuuri would have assumed it was a coincidence, but Yakov seemed to feel different.

 

"I … don't know." Yuri knew Yakov's words were a lie, but he didn't call him out on it.

 

All too soon the exhibition practice was over, and they were leaving -- walking past where Lilia and Yuri were waiting for a car -- the SE always drove their skaters from venue to hotel.

 

When Yakov waved the first shuttle bus off, Yuuri was suspicious. There had been enough room, yes it would have been crowded, but was it really worth the 20 minute wait for the next one? Then he saw how Yakov kept looking back at Lilia.

 

He heard how Yuri sighed loudly. Then announcing in Russian that he had to go to the bathroom, Yuri walked back into the building.

 

Yuuri only paused for a minute or two, looking into his bag and making some transparent excuse for something he had forgotten. He hurried into the building, assuming Yuri had gone to the closest bathroom -- there was no sign of anyone in the hallway leading there. The crowds wouldn't be here until the exhibition tonight.

 

Inside the bathroom, it was exactly what he expected. Yuri was standing here, just watching the door as he waited. Yuuri paused, looking at those beautiful eyes, "Yuri?"

 

"I don't have long." The young man dropped his eyes as he walked closer, his voice barely audible.

 

"What do you need?" The offer just a whisper.

 

"Lilia …. Madam Baranovskaya … help me?" He placed a hand onto Yuri's shoulder looking up at him, perfectly straight white teeth just barely biting his lower lip as he waited for Yuuri to say something.

 

"How can I help?" He didn't think about how his hand slipped to barely touch the other man's thin waist.

 

"I need to get her out of here. I need … I need … Yuuri? I'll do anything, anything…" His lips slowly parted as he looked up at Yuuri, moving to his tiptoes as he started to bring their lips together.

 

"No!" Yuuri stepped back, shocked at the sudden realization of what was being offered.

 

In an instant, those soft eyes turned to narrowed fire. "I don't have anything else to pay you with."

 

"Oh … " Yuuri stood there, looking, really looking at Yuri. He was still so young. Then he saw the tears start to well up and that delicate body shake.

 

Yuri didn't say anything, dropping his head as once again he was crying in the bathroom, this time silent sobs as tears fell to the tiles.

 

"Yuri…" Yuuri didn't think, this time he stepped forward, wrapping the other man into a tight hug, holding him close as he gently ran a hand over that slicked back pale hair.

 

"I … I need -- please? Please tell me Yakov still loves her? Please please tell me he'll save her? I don't care what happens to me. I don't care if they throw me in prison or kill me -- I just want her safe?" He was whispering, every word shaking as he gripped onto the man's chest.

 

"Shhh, he loves her." Yuuri knew that. Yuuri saw how Yakov watched Lilia. Yuuri knew.

 

"I … I can't pay… I don't have any money." The words just whispered, but it didn't surprise Yuuri. Giving a young athlete money and the ability to travel was a recipe for disaster for the Siberian Empire.

 

"You don't have to." Yuuri just held him tighter, feeling how the young man still shook.

 

"Tell Yakov we have to get her out of here? Please? She needs him. She's sick."

 

There was no way that Yuuri could say no, not with how Yuri was looking up at him with those perfect soft eyes, tears streaked across his cheeks. Whatever the whole story was, it was so brutally clear the young man loved that woman.

 

"We'll figure something out." It was a promise. Yuuri didn't know how he was going to keep that promise, but he swore he would.

 

With a nod, Yuri bounced up to his toes and a kiss was pressed to Yuuri's lips -- this time an honest kiss, not the offer of payment from earlier. With that, he was gone, rushing back before he was missed and leaving Yuuri alone in the bathroom, stunned and not knowing what to do.

 

* * *

 

By the time Yuuri reached Yakov, Lilia and Yuri were both gone. Maybe it was paranoia, but Yuuri waited until they got to his hotel room to tell his coach what had happened -- everything. He answered every last question Yakov had as he kept asking for details, making sure he knew exactly which words in Russian that Yuri had used.  It was clear that Yakov was willing to do anything once he had been told that Lilia needed him.

 

Yakov did the only thing he could think of, pulling out the necklace he wore around his neck, the necklace Yuuri knew existed but did not know what was on it - and on it was a simple gold ring. He watched as Yakov took the ring off it, placing it on his right hand on the ring finger. "If she sees it -- she'll know." Yakov's explanation simple.

 

Yuuri sat there as Yakov started to make calls. So many calls. He needed to find an embassy tonight that was willing to take Lilia and Yuri. As Yuuri sat there, listening to Yakov be turned down by country after country -- there was just nothing that could be done so quickly, he had an idea. Yuri had said that he would do anything to get Lilia to safety, so Yuuri took a risk.

 

He picked up his own phone, looking up a number and then dialing it. He started to speak in rapid-fire Japanese. He didn't explain, just letting Yakov wonder. If this worked … if this worked, he was willing to do what it would take. He nodded, thanking the embassy person again. "I … we have an option." He looked over at Yakov, swallowing. "Yuri said he would do anything."

 

Yakov's eyes narrowed. "He's young…"

 

"He is. He's old enough for this." Yuuri took a deep breath, "We just need to get them to the Japanese embassy. It will give you time to find something better. He just needs to pretend to be my fiance. He's young enough, his guardian can come with him. It gets them both safe. We just need to get them inside the embassy."

 

"He is too young to be selling his body --"

 

"Yakov! No! I would never!" He hadn't left out anything about the kissing. He hadn't left out anything about how Yuri had looked at him. Yuuri took a deep breath, "He just has to pretend to love me for a few weeks while you come up with something better. Nothing more than a kiss… I promise. I'd never do that to him."

 

Yakov sighed, it was their only option. "I have a plan." Yakov leaned closer, the plan passed between the two of them in the softest of whispers. Tonight would be dangerous and a gamble, but if this worked -- if this worked both Lilia and Yuri would be safe.

 

* * *

 

That night, the exhibition was beautiful. The cheers for Yuri echoed and this time, the flowers were white with silver tips. The young man a momentary celebrity after how he had been robbed by the judges.

 

Yuri had a chance, just a brief one to talk to him before taking the ice himself. He leaned in, whispering, "At the banquet, pretend to get sick just before eleven. Then trust us. Tell Lilia, we are getting you both out." He couldn't even wait for a reply, all he could do was skate onto the ice and do his exhibition. He'd never been this nervous in his life.

 

It would be improper for a skater to not be at the Gala after being part of the exhibition, so Lilia and Yuri were there. Yuuri was certain the two men at the table with them were security, making sure Lilia and Yuri didn't do anything.

 

Yuuri was too nervous to eat, trying to act as normal as possible, but knowing Yakov was on edge as well. Keeping an eye on Lilia and Yuri without seeming to was an all night event. If anyone noticed anything was off with either of them, no one actually was cruel enough to point it out. Then at 10:45, they saw Yuri stand up. He smiled at Lilia, gentle and honest, caring clear in his look as he held out a hand to her. The song playing was slow and beautiful. While neither guard looked pleased that Lilia and Yuri were leaving the table, there was only so much they could do if her student asked for her to dance one song with him.

 

If there was any doubt that Yuri was classically trained in dance, the second the two started to move on the dance floor his background was clear. Every movement was perfectly timed to the other. He led seamlessly, leading the former prima across the dancefloor and knowing all eyes were on them. Neither wore anything designer, but they were dressed as nicely as they could be. The dancing though was captivating, Yuri's bow at the beginning even had a hand behind himself at with his hand at the small of his back as he reached out to take Lilia's hand, pulling her into the dance before they floated across the wooden dance floor, perfectly in time.

 

Yakov whispered, "She's beautiful." Clear his love for her had never faded as he watched.

 

As the time grew closer, Yakov and Yuuri stood up, moving towards the dance floor. They were not the only ones watching the two dance. It was so rare to see anyone from the Siberian Empire in public like this. Then shortly before 11, Yuri stopped, eyes widened and his hands moving to his side as he dropped to his knees.

 

"Yuratcha!" The panic in Lilia's voice seemed too real to be faked.

 

Yakov and Yuuri were moving instantly. They were both at the young man's side as Yuuri yelled, "He's burning up, we need to get him to a doctor!" He had never given anyone a reason to question him, and before either guard could get there, Yuuri and Yakov had the young man lifted up. Yuri wasn't even 50 kilograms, it wasn't as if carrying him was hard. Yakov grabbed Lilia's hand, making sure she trailed after them as Yuuri rushed them out the door. The crowd of people that had formed to watch the dancing enough to slow the two guards.

 

Yuuri couldn't stop to think. His phone said the car he ordered would be there. Still ahead of the guards, all four of them piled into the car and Yuuri was giving directions as it sped off towards the Japanese embassy, the cash Yuuri flashed enough of a tip to get the driver to make sure no one could catch them.

 

Lilia screamed, "What are you doing! He needs a doctor!"

 

"Lilienka, he's fine!" Yakov wasn't going to let go of her, gripping her hand even as she tried to check on her young skater.

 

"I'm fine! I'm fine -- we're -- they have a plan. We're getting out of here! You're going to be safe!" As Yuri looked up with her, his eyes so hopeful, she started to cry, clutching him to her as she just held onto the young man.

 

Quickly, Yuuri explained. "I told the embassy that Yuri and I are secretly engaged. We just have to keep up that lie long enough for Yakov to come up with something better. They promised they would protect you both."

 

Yuri nodded, more than willing -- he'd have given up anything to get Lilia to safety, to fake being in love with someone who had done so much for them was nothing.

 

By the time they got to the embassy and inside the gate, Lilia was in tears, held close to Yakov as he stroked her long dark hair.

 

Once safely inside, Yakov and Lilia were inseparable, Yuri smiled at the two of them, looking up at his 'fiance' as he smiled, "Thank you."

 

"You're OK with this?"

 

"More than OK." Then the younger man blushed. All the worried could be dealt with in the morning. This was the first night of actual freedom he had had in his life. "Can I kiss you?"

 

Yuuri blinked, he hadn't expected that. No one was watching them right now. Everyone in the embassy was dealing with the fall out while the four of them just stayed safe inside. Yuuri nodded, leaning down as Yuri leaned into him, a soft kiss pressed to his lips. Then the young man whispering, "I've always wanted to do that."

 

"You … wanted to kiss me?"

 

"Uh huh. You -- " He blushed more, muttering under his breath before relaxing, "I had the biggest crush on you."

 

"You did?"

 

"Uh huh…" Then Yuri leaned in to kiss him again. "Is it selfish I wanted you to be the one to save us?"

 

"No … no, Yuri, I don't think you've been selfish at all." No, not with how he had done all of this for Lilia. No Yuri wasn't selfish, not with the joy he'd brought the woman who was clearly more mother than coach. This time, it was Yuuri who leaned in to kiss him, a gentle press of lips … maybe this was going to end up so much different than he had thought it would. He was still kissing the other man when the head of the embassy returned -- no one questioned their story, not with how happy the looked kissing each other.


End file.
